


Prodigal Princess

by spiderfire



Category: Christian Bible (New Testament), Original Work
Genre: Gen, Parable retold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5099219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderfire/pseuds/spiderfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Hazel left to seek her fortune.  Princess Heather stayed behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prodigal Princess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> Sumi - This is the second story I wrote for you. The first one I had completely written and then I went back and re-read your prompt and realized it was not what you asked for. So, have another story. I hope you like at least one of them! :) They were interesting to write so thank you for the prompts!

Alice Briard was a woman of middle years. She was short, she wore her iron-grey hair in a bun, and she was attired precisely. She wore fine dresses of blue and green silks, the same colors as the House of Lamost’s livery, but she was not a servant. She was as high above the waiting women and cooks and butlers as the queen was above her. 

Alice had served the House Lamost for all of her life. First as a clerk in the royal bank and then, over the years, she rose to prominence as an advisor. The queen had called on her over two decades ago when House Lamost was seeking a loan from the nation of Ancla. She had explained the terms to the queen and the queen had so liked her explanation that she had kept her on as an advisor on financial matters. When Upper Rebonia had laid tariffs on their products, she had resolved the issue without the use of military. A few years ago when the issue with the queen’s younger daughter had come to a head, her shrewd investments saved the kingdom from financial ruin. And now, with famine threatening the vast Nation of Hast to the south, it would be her duty to draw the queen from her despondency and plan for the flood of refugees that were soon to be challenging their boarders. 

Tucking a sheaf of papers under her arm, she knocked on the door to the queen’s sitting room and then entered without waiting. The queen sat by the window, staring out at the parade grounds. Her breakfast tray was still laid out next to her on the table. As usual, the tray was nearly full. She had nibbled on the corner of a bisquit and one slice of an apple was missing. These days, neither the choicest fruits nor the finest pastries tempted the queen. 

“My liege,” Alice said, dropping into a curtsey. 

The queen did not move her gaze from the window. “Yes?” she said. 

“There is news, my lady.” 

The queen turned to face her and straightened, “Of my daughter?” she asked hopefully. 

With a sigh, Alice pulled over a chair and settled in it. “No, my lady.” The queen never failed to ask of Princess Hazel, even after the disgrace she had brought to the name of House Lamost last year. She went on, “There is a matter with Hast that we must discuss.” 

The queen drooped in her chair and turned back to the window. “Let Heather handle it,” she said. Heather was the queen’s elder daughter. “She will be queen soon enough.” 

Alice’s lips tightened in disapproval. “My lady,” she said. “If you can just…” 

The queen interrupted. “Let Heather handle it,” she said again. “Leave me in peace.” 

With a sigh, Alice stood. “As you wish, my lady.” 

***

The situation in Hast was bad. Drought had brought on famine. Winter had brought disease. Hast was a vast country, more than three times the size of their fair land. Despite the threats that the throngs of refugees brought, Princess Heather dispatched herself well. They sent food, of course, and offered healthy refugees shelter for the winter if they would work. Sick ones they housed on the border until they got better. 

Throughout the kingdom, there was a glut of workers. At first, their own people complained that the refugees were taking their jobs. It was Alice's suggestion that the crown offer to give food to any household who took on refugees. Suddenly, refugees found homes everywhere. The castle had never been so well staffed. They took on anyone who had the stature to serve at the castle. Before long, the servants had servants, and every corner shined. If meals were a bit thinner than usual, well, that was the price to pay for peace. It was better than arming the border. It was better than war. 

Alice may have suggested the strategy but Princess Heather took it to heart. In the midst of the fall rains, she rode throughout the kingdom explaining the importance of housing the refuges. She herself took the well-fed noblemen to task, shaming them in front of their wives and mistresses. 

Of all the complainers, her ladies complained most bitterly. Alice was so proud of Heather’s resolve in the face of her friend’s contempt. “Why is it,” they demanded of her, “that we have to eat like peasants?” 

“You have no idea how peasants eat,” Heather retorted. “Isn’t it better for us to eat lightly and so they may eat at all?” 

Or, another time when several of them cornered her. “My lady,” they said so politely, “It is Winter Feast next week. Will we have a fattened calf?” 

“Or even a goat?” another asked. 

Princess Heather said, “No, but Cook has told me there is an old cow who no longer gives milk. The herdsmen will slaughter her for stew.” 

The girls wrinkled their noses. “The cow will be tough and dry,” they protested. “Winter Feast is supposed to be about tender, succulent meats.” 

“Not this year,” Princess Heather replied. “This year we celebrate eating at all.” 

A week before Winter Fest Princess Heather could take it no longer. She snapped at them, “You should be thankful for this. At least you will fit in your dresses come spring. That will be the best chance you, you selfish lot, have of finding a husband!” 

***

Winter Fest came and went. There had not been enough mead to go around and while there had been plenty of stew, it was thin and eminently forgettable. The days got longer, but spring was still months away. Alice fretted for the queen, who grew frailer each day, and she was proud of Heather and her iron resolve to get through months of cold. _Heather_ , she thought, _is going to make a fine queen._

Meanwhile, the castle reached its limit. They could take in no more refugees. Though it hurt her to do so, Heather ordered that all future refugees be given a loaf of bread and sent on. Each day, she personally spent an hour at the gates, looking into the sunken, hungry eyes of the men and women who came to ask for help. 

It was not uncommon for the refugees to be angry, to yell and cuss at the guards. One day, Heather and Alice walked to the door, to find the guards trying to turn away a woman who was begging, “Please, sir,” she said. “I can tend the swine. I can clean the privy-pits. Please just let me talk to the queen.” 

But the guard thrust a loaf of bread at her and said, “Move along, miss.” When she did not move, the guard prodded her with the blunt end of his spear. 

“Captain!” Princess Heather called out striding forward. Alice hung back, frowning at Princess Heather, wondering what she was up to now. 

“My lady!” the guard said abruptly, snapping to attention. 

Princess Heather pointed at the woman who had stopped. The woman was staring at Heather openly, something that most people did not do. She might have been just a princess, not yet the queen, but there was a certain decorum that people treated her with. Something about the woman’s eyes bothered Alice, but she could not place it. 

Heather was dressed in a white gown that flowed around her, billowing in her wake. Her hair was pinned up and the simple golden circlet of her rank shimmered against the dark brown of her hair. The peasant woman was about as large of a contrast as one might expect. Dirt was smeared on her face and creased in her skin. Her brown hair was dull and tangled. The clothes she wore were little more than rags. As Heather stepped forward, she cringed and almost seemed to sink into the floor. 

Heather looked at the peasant woman and the peasant woman looked back, her eyes widening Heather said something that Alice could not hear and suddenly, Heather took a step forward and embraced the peasant woman. The guard started forward, aghast. “My lady!” he exclaimed moving to pull them apart. 

But Alice figured it out. “It’s all right,” she told the guards. “Let them pass.” And the guard stepped aside as Princess Heather led the peasant woman through the castle gate.

The peasant woman, Alice realized, was no peasant at all. She was Heather’s younger sister, Princess Hazel. The state she was in was shocking, considering. Three years ago, Princess Hazel had left the castle, resplendent in jewels, mounted on a fine white palfrey, with an entire armada of maidservants and guards in her entourage. She had always been the queen's favorites, but her station, as the second daughter grated on her. In a fit of petulance, she had demanded her inheritance and the queen had given it, and then she had left to seek her fortune in the great courts of Hast or Rebonia or even the faraway land of Ancla where she would not be in Heather's shadow. She took no interest in the small affairs of House Lamost where she would always be a second daughter. She was going to marry a king. She was going to become famous across the world. She was going to university or maybe into theater. Her plans had been grand and vague. 

And now, here she was. Her fortune spent, her person in tatters. How was it that she came to such a state? And what should Alice do? On one hand, it would do the queen good to see Princess Hazel again, but on the other hand, to see her in such condition? Would it kill her? 

Heather had drawn Hazel into a corner and, the smiles and welcome were gone. “How dare you?” Princess Heather hissed at Hazel. “How dare you come back! After you made a fool of yourself in Ancla?” Even under the dirt, Alice could see Princess Hazel blanch. “You think I did not hear of the stories?” Heather growled, leaning in towards her sister so that her sister retreated back against the wall. “Where’s your son, Princess Hazel?” Heather sneered. “How dare you! How dare you come back!” 

Alice stepped forward and laid a hand on Heather’s arm. “My lady,” Alice interrupted. Heather turned an angry gaze at Alice, her glare piercing. Alice stepped back as Heather demanded, “What?” 

“Your mother, the queen,” Alice began.

“My mother, the queen, has not stirred from her rooms in over a year. What does she have to do with any of this?” 

“It would do her heart glad, I think,” Alice said. “To see Princess Hazel.” 

“If she knew of…” 

“She already knows.”

Heather turned away, “Fine,” she said. “But wash the stink off her first.”

***

A few hours later, Alice led a transformed Hazel through the halls. The dirt had been scrubbed off and she wore a simple white dress. There was not much they could do with the hair, but she looked something like the girl who had left Castle Lamost years before. Her eyes were different, though. Lined, wary. Those eyes were not the eyes of the child who had left here on a prancing palfrey in the midst of a parade of courtesans. Those were eyes that had seen far more than her age would suggest. 

“Your mother,” Alice said as they walked. “She has missed you.”

Princess Hazel looked straight ahead. “I’ll bet she has,” she said drily. 

“No,” Alice said. “Really.” 

“I didn’t come here for her pity.” 

“Then why did you come here, my lady?” Alice asked. 

“Honestly?” the princess asked. “I have no idea. Food? A roof over my head during the winter’s storms?” Her face twisted into a smile that did not reach her eyes, “I missed the warm embrace of my sister.” 

Alice’s lips tightened. “Well, the queen has missed you.” 

“Even after Ancla?”

Alice nodded. The scandal had set the nobles tittering and gossiping for weeks. For the queen, though, the news had buoyed her, but then when the news had dried up, the queen sank to new depths. 

They came to the queen’s door and Alice laid her hand on the knob. “Ready?” she asked the princess. Hazel nodded and Alice opened the door.

***

“Are you out of your mind?” Princess Heather screamed at Alice as she exploded through the door into Alice’s office. 

“It’s the queen’s orders.” 

“Kill a fattened calf? Why do we even have a fattened calf? We didn’t do that for Winter Feast. Why do it for her?” 

“The queen is glad of her return.” 

“But why? Why such extravagance? She nearly brought this house to financial ruin! It was only your shrewd investments that saved us. And then there was the affair in Ancla.” 

“You might tone that down a bit?” 

“For the Lady’s sake, why?” 

“Her son, he died. That’s why she came home.” 

“He was a bastard,” Heather said. “Thank god. Just think of the mess that would make of succession!” 

Alice pressed her lips together. “That was unworthy of you, my lady,” she reprimanded gently. 

“But why, Alice? I have been here all along. Not once has the queen allowed me to celebrate with my friends! And now, after my sister has gone off and squandered her money, nearly brought ruin on our house, my mother orders an extravagant feast for her! How dare she!” 

The door to Alice’s study opened again and Alice looked up. The queen was standing in the doorway. “Majesty,” Alice said, getting to her feet.

The queen waved her hand, gesturing for Alice to sit. “How dare I?” she asked Heather archly. 

Heather turned to look at her mother. “How dare you, mother? I stayed here, doing the work of the kingdom. I dress to my station but not extravagantly. I have not had feasts for my friends nor brought suitors to my bed. Then she comes back and now, in the midst of famine, you throw a party for her.” 

The queen turned toward the window, looking out at the muddy winter fields. It had been a warm winter, with weeks of chilly rains instead but little snow. “She has returned to us, Heather. That is reason enough to celebrate.” 

“But mother!” 

“Princess,” the queen said formally. “My daughter has come home to me. Won’t you celebrate with us?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the Parable of the Prodigal Son, Luke 15:11-32
> 
> Who'd've thought I'd ever write bible fanfic? Not me.


End file.
